


Nobody Can Drag Me Down (But You)

by trippydooda



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, I should be finishing other fics, M/M, Not starting new ones, R.i.p. me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-02
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-08-12 13:09:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7935970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trippydooda/pseuds/trippydooda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He told his mum that this year he'd focus on his studies, that was until he met his roommate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nobody Can Drag Me Down (But You)

He told his mum that this year he'd focus on his studies. He left giving her a hug and a promise, and was damned if something was going to get in his way. His GPA was all anyone needed to look at before coming to a sound conclusion: Harry was not good at this college thing. He was a junior, and if the past two years told him anything it was that he was a complete idiot and was never going to graduate like Gemma did. Especially not with a 4.0. That's why Harry decided to change his attitude. He bought clothes that actually looked good (or at least he took Gemma's word for it). He actually bought his textbooks beforehand. That trip to Staples? He bought everything he needed for the year to come. 

On the bus to his dorm, Harry sat in his seat with the dumbest smile, so sure he was going to do right this semester.

That was until he met his roommate.

"What the fuck?" Harry says, already stepping over piles of dirty clothes. He thinks that maybe somebody just didn't move out yet until a breathless young boy appears in the doorway. He's smiling but Harry isn't sure why. This place is disgusting, he thinks, and so he says, "What the fuck is this mess?"

The boy's smile fades.

"I was getting settled in," he says defensively in the most ridiculous Yorkshire accent Harry's ever heard. 

He can't help but sarcastically laugh. "I didn't realise getting 'settled in'"--he holds up air quotes--"meant making the whole place look like a high school boy's locker room."

Harry swears the boy stamps his feet. "Well it's not like I was expecting anyone so soon." His eyes narrow down on Harry, and all Harry can think about is how the hair on the boy's head hasn't been parted correctly. "Why are you even here?"

Harry deeply sighs and raises his arms up into a shrug and then defiantly back down. "This is my _dorm_ ," and the last word is as full as venom as he can make it. All the colour fades from the other boy's face when he makes the connection. If Harry's honest, his did a little bit too.

"Then that makes you…" He says slowly, and really? Harry is already fed up.

"Your roommate," he finishes, and doesn't hide the lack of excitement there. 

It turns out the heathen boy's name is Louis. Harry's pretty sure he mentioned his last name, but he didn't make a note of it. From snooping through some of Louis' things Harry finds they have no classes together, but that still doesn't make him feel better. He had to _live_ with this atrocity. He takes longer than usual to walk back to the room after classes, and tries to flirt with as many women as possible so he can hopefully sleep somewhere else than that tight room with Louis and his godforsaken snoring. It's sad when Harry realises he isn't even interested in sex as much as he is in getting a good night's sleep.

And really, it's awful. It's been a month since the semester started and Harry hasn't a good night's sleep since. The first night was fine since Harry fell asleep first, but now when he gets back Louis is almost always asleep and _always_ snoring. Sometimes when Harry is trying to finish homework he considers holding Louis' nose until he stops breathing and has no choice but to wake up. It usually ends with Harry uncomfortably passing out in his textbooks, waking up to finding out he's late for class and also stuck to the pages.

That's not the worst thing about Louis, though. Hell, if someone asked Harry to make a list of the things that Louis did that bothered him it'd turn into a novel. If the first moment he stepped in to the room wasn't enough proof, Louis made no attempt at hiding how messy he was. Every day Harry would find more and more shit piled up in places that made no sense. Once, he found a sock in the bathroom sink and just decided it'd be safer to brush his teeth in the shower. That was another thing. Louis made a point to always sing in the shower, and even if he was actually really good Harry would never admit it. He always did it when Harry was trying to study, like he knew exactly the worst time to bathe himself. It was uncanny. 

It's the fifth day Harry comes into class hungover that a less annoying person, Liam, says something. "Jesus dude. What the hell happened to you?" He asks, and Harry's not even sure he can answer. Liam has been nice to him, and they've gone out for drinks before. They met when Harry was a sophomore and have been extremely close since. Harry tells Liam most of the shit that has gone on in his life, and the whole Louis situation is no different. 

"'S the only way I can sleep," Harry grumbles before falling into his seat. It's not even sitting. It's true falling. Harry is falling now. Great.

Liam shakes he head but laughs anyway, and that's low. Harry shoots him a dirty look. "Mate, it can't be that bad." The professor starts lecture, but it doesn't deter Liam: "Have you ever even told him about it?" And Harry groans loud enough that a girl sitting near them looks over angrily. 

"Liam, I told my mum that I'd be better this semester," Harry groans, "And because of this fuckwit I can't even sleep. It's like the opposite problem I had." He whimpers a little and doesn't even care if it's pathetic. 

Liam, being himself, laughs. "I'm pretty sure this whole situation is completely fixable. Just have a conversation with the bloke, see if you can figure something out." Liam is hushed by the same girl and so the conversation stops, but Harry doesn't move to take anything out of his backpack. Instead, he thinks.

When he thinks, he thinks about him and Louis have never actually had a proper conversation. The most they speak to each other is when one complains about something the other is doing. He's not even sure if they say goodnight to each other, which is sort of weird for Harry. He's never been complete best friends with any of his roommates, but at least they got along well. They'd watch dumb movies just to point out the nudity, and they'd walk each other to class sometimes. There'd be a cool new handshake every semester and at least they could laugh together. With Louis, everything is backwards. Harry can't stand even being near him. The way he sniffs under his breath when really concentrating bugs the shit out of him. When he gets back to the dorm, he kicks of his shoes and they always land near Harry's feet. He never gets over how dirty they are, either. The same pair of stupid Converse. He's pretty sure Louis has had them since he was twelve. 

Liam and Harry chat a while even when their classes are all over for the day, and once again Liam tries to tell Harry to talk to Louis. Of course Harry protests but is sickly reminded of his promise to his mum when Liam starts to recite Harry's grades. How did he even get access to that? Harry thinks he must have shown him at some point. It's still weird, though.

Harry walks up to his room's door hesitant. His fingers linger over the nob, and he's sure Louis is still awake because there isn't any snoring and is also pretty sure the boy has no social life to speak of. When he walks in, he's right on both counts. Louis is laying on his bed, the little apple logo on his laptop being the only thing Harry can see. He walks in quietly, as if Louis is a beat he need not piss off. The thought of Louis being threatening brings out a chuckle though, and suddenly the laptop is gone and a glasses wearing dork appears.

"You're home early," Louis quips and how does he know when Harry is usually back?

"I, uh," Harry starts but Louis just shakes his head and makes a clicking noise with his tongue. 

"As usual," he mumbles under his breath and that just pisses Harry off.

"Since when did you care when I got back or not?" Harry asks angrily. "And this isn't _home_ , mate. It's just where I have to sleep at night. If I could even sleep anyway." He throws his backpack on an empty chair, angry with himself thinking he could talk to Louis normally. Damning Liam for making him think he should.

Louis just sighs and for some reason that only fuels Harry's anger. "You seem to sleep nicely through your alarms."

Harry wants to choke him. "Because _you_ snore like a fucking elephant!"

"That doesn't even make sense," Louis replies cooly, and it doesn't help Harry calm down at all. 

"Well maybe if I could sleep I would make more sense," Harry seethes through clenching teeth. "You're impossible to live with! You make everything a shithole and don't even bother trying to make it better. I find myself cleaning up every hour because when you leave and come back, it's like you took an entire football's team worth of filth with you!"

Louis closes his laptop and takes off his glasses, a hand going to rub his face. He sighs in, deeply, and then turns to Harry. "Tomlinson."

"What?" Harry shouts, and almost feels bad when Louis flinches. 

"My last name," he replies softly. 

Harry shoves his backpack off the chair and replaces it with his bum. He ruffles frustrated hands through his curly mess of hair and tries not to kill the boy in front of him. "Why do I care about that?" Harry asks, not looking at Louis.

"You don't," Louis replies, "And you also don't know a thing about me."

Harry grunts. "So?"

"So," Louis fluidly stands, covers falling off his legs effortlessly. He's wearing nothing but an old tank top and boxers. "Isn't that a little weird?" He looks at Harry honestly.

This can't be happening. "Is this your idea of calming me down?" Harry asks sarcastically. 

Louis shrugs. "I have a friend who has class with you. Says you're nice to everyone. Funny. So maybe I got to wonderin' why I'm so different."

 _Because you're an ass_. "Why do you even care what I think of you?"

It's almost funny that Louis looks a little hurt by the statement. His eyes meet the floor and he breathes in deeply again. "I don't." Harry smells a lie. "But I figure if we have to live with each other, we should at least know a bit about each other."

Harry considers this. He would honestly feel worse lying to Liam and saying he spoke to Louis about the whole snoring thing than trying to talk now. He also takes a good look at Louis. His thin lips are quivering, like he's actually nervous about this. Next thing Harry notices is the blue of Louis' eyes. Scanning over him as a whole, Harry decides he's actually quite nice looking. And Harry can talk to good looking people.

"Fine," Harry mumbles, but Louis perks up anyway. 

So they tell each other things. Absolutely irrelevant things, like how apparently Louis likes to play football with no underwear on because the breeze feels nice under his gym shorts. Harry finds himself telling Louis sentimental things, too, like how he still keeps a teddy bear Gemma gave him when he was sick when he was five. It makes him feel better, he insists when Louis laughs. They talk about sports, about women, about _men_ and Harry absently wonders if Louis is gay. At one point Harry finds beer, and then they're drinking while watching reruns of old cartoons Harry doesn't even remember the plot to. When Louis' four a.m. alarm goes off (and since when did he get up that early?) they decide they should stop for the night. For the first time in two months, Louis says goodnight to Harry. For the first night in many, Harry actually sleeps soundly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Liam asks about it later that week, Harry smiles. He tells him only that they had a conversation, and since Harry has been able to sleep. He's not sure if Louis was snoring on purpose, or that now Harry just doesn't notice it. Instead he notices the way Louis dries off after showers, the way he almost dances around the towel. He makes sure to turn away before Louis find him staring, though. Even still Harry has begun to notice when Louis is sad, because he puts headphones in and firmly plants his face on his pillows. Nothing deters him, either, and Harry has tried. Sometimes it worries Harry, but Louis never brings it up so Harry never asks. 

One night Harry is sitting in, playing horrible music and doing school work. When he came back to the room, it was strange that Louis wasn't there. He pretended he didn't mind, though, and went right to what he was doing now. It's only when Louis comes barging in that Harry looks at the clock. Two a.m. 

"Harry," Louis greets, and it's all slurred. So he's drunk. Harry turns his music down and spins on his chair. 

Louis is a mess. His shirt has something dark spilled on it, and his jacket is falling off one shoulder. There's a bruise under his eye and even his shoes are untied. "What the hell happened to you?" Harry asks, a little worried now.

"Oh, nuthin'," Louis laughs and tries to walk but just ends up falling down near Harry's feet. Harry only pokes him with his toe a little. 

"Right," Harry says. When Louis' response is to sing even more horribly than he does in the shower Harry gets a little angry. "So someone beat you up," he says a little bitterly. 

Louis' head pops up. It's actually a little amusing. "Maybe," he smiles and then breaks out into laughter. He obviously missed the part where it wasn't funny. Harry stands, realising he's going have to take care of this now. He leans down and begins dragging Louis to his bed. He's compete dead weight and it takes all of Harry's strength to hoist him on the mattress. Louis is face first in his sheets and is just humming.

Harry sits on the edge, wiping his face. So this is how his night is going to go. "Louis roll over before you suffocate," he says. Louis complies, but when Harry goes to look at him, he's staring right into Harry's eyes. "What," Harry says, annoyed. 

"You're beautiful," Louis says, like it's the only sentence he knows. 

If Harry was an idiot, he'd blush. But he wasn't. He knows Louis is drunk, so he chimes, "Thanks babe."

A hand rests itself on Harry's thigh. "I mean it," Louis says again, but this time it's quieter. "When I… When I saw you standing in this room, I thought… Damn… This guy's perfect." Louis laughs. "Until you opened your mouth."

Harry scoffs. "Did I ruin it, then?"

"No," Louis growls. There isn't really another word. "It just made me want you more." Before Harry can even take the time to respond, Louis is on top of him, clumsy yet still being able to get Harry on his back. To be honest, Harry is too stunned to respond and definitely has no idea what to do when Louis plants his lips on Harry's. 

It's messy, and Louis tastes like twenty-five pence beer. Still, Harry hasn't gotten laid since school started and the mouth is soft enough, so he kisses back. He's gentle at first, just parting lips and meshing them back together, taking full control now. He steadies himself up on one elbow and uses the free hand to grab the loose bits of Louis' hair. He tugs on it out of impulse and Louis whimpers into the kiss, which just gets Harry going even more. He opens Louis' mouth so he can bite down on his lower lip, which gains him another whimper and a frantic response. Louis has pushed Harry back down, his waist colliding with Harry's. Harry finds himself grabbing at Louis' ass, pulling him close, close enough to feel the familiar heat against his crotch and then realises: Louis is hard.

It's enough to bring Harry back to reality, and he shoves Louis off of him. Louis lands quite happily on the other end of the bed, still smiling like an idiot. Harry touches his own lips, not sure if he really just did what he thinks. How did he go from hating this boy's guts to making out with him? He shoots a look at Louis who doesn't seem to give a damn.

"You…" He draws out, "You kiss good." He passes out right after that, and Harry is thankful. He spends about half the night watching Louis sleep, not even noticing the snore, trying to come to terms with what he's initiated. He's fucked up. Of all the roommates he's had, he never tried to molest one. Not even once. Now Harry has to come back to this every night, look at Louis and remember what it felt like to kiss him. He's not sure what he's pissed more about, the fact that he has to face Louis about this later or that it felt really good.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"You did _what_?" Liam shrieks in the middle of the hallway and Harry winces. Maybe he deserves it.

"I told you, he was drunk--"

"That makes it okay?" It's another shriek and Harry's just getting annoyed at this point. Besides, people are staring.

The most annoying bit is that Liam is laughing, and Harry isn't really sure why or what at. Nothing about his situation is funny, so he just pouts. "He initiated it anyway."

Harry's thankful when Liam doesn't shriek again. "Does he even remember?"

Harry shrugs. He made a point to make a dash for class the next day and momentarily felt bad he left Louis to sleep in. He's avoided the dorm since. "I haven't really…" He swallows hard. "I've sort of…"

Liam stares at him dumbly. "You haven't even talked to him since it happened?" He barely finishes the sentence when Harry just responds with a truly pathetic squeal of "no".

The rest of the day passes without much incident, and even though it was two days ago Harry can't stop thinking about how good Louis felt against him. His thin body splayed over him and how warm he was against Harry's skin. The noises he made with even just the smallest of stimulations. Harry finds himself wondering what else he could make come out of that small mouth. How his cock might fit right in, those warm and wet lips sucking him all the way down, even if it chokes him, but dammit he'd still take it and Harry would just let him, oh he'd let him make him feel so good, so good Harry would come right into Louis' mouth and--

"Harry?" 

Harry freezes, unaware he's standing in front of a bulletin board, day dreaming. He blinks once or twice before he recognises that stupid accent. 

"Louis…" He says somewhat quietly, turning to find the small runt standing next to him, an eyebrow raised. He can't help but notice the bruise is still apparent under Louis' eye.

"You alright mate?" He asks, a smile creeping to his lips. It makes Harry want to kiss it right off him.

"Yeah!" Harry says too loudly and excitedly. Louis regards him strangely. 

"Are your classes done with, then?" Louis asks, and he almost looks hopeful.

So Harry lies, "Yup."

Louis mouths "ah" and nods, and Harry is pretty sure he knows he's lying. Even if he knew that, he didn't seem to care. "Want to accompany me, then?"

Harry's legs only shake a little when he watches Louis as he speaks. He remembers. "Sure, where ya headed?" He tries to make it sound as causal as possible.

It turns out Louis had to return some books to the library, and Harry's already forgotten what they were even about. They're walking through campus now, Louis just causally making conversation and Harry responding his best even though it seems like he can't even focus with Louis around anymore. It frustrates him slightly, and once they're back in the dorm he finally gets the courage to confront Louis about the whole mess, but he's too slow.

"You don't seem really alright," Louis says, examining Harry carefully. It makes Harry squirm. 

"'M fine," he lies, but tries to make it as convincing as possible. How do you tell your roommate that you were just thinking about shagging him? He doesn't think there is.

Louis just nods, not breaking eye contact with Harry. "Right…" He goes to take out papers from his backpack. "Well I thought I'd help you study."

Harry's eyebrows furrow. "How did you know my grades were shit?"

"I didn't really," Louis laughs, "But I do now." He smiles and Harry knows he's totally fucked up.

They do really study, though. It actually helps Harry, too. He finds himself intently listening to what Louis is saying, and okay sometimes he lets him study the way Louis' fingers fly across pages, how they hold a pencil, and how he rests his chin on the free hand, babbling away about something Harry is sure he should be paying attention to. He knows he should stop all this and come clear about the other night. Tell Louis he's sorry, that that can't happen and even sorrier for making it seem so. But as Harry watches Louis more, he wonders why he thinks that. What could be so bad about him and Louis?

"And that's basically all you need to know," Louis says triumphantly and slaps the pencil down. Shit. Harry lost focus there.

"T-Thanks, Louis," Harry says, and he thinks maybe that's the first time he's said his name. It sounds good rolling off his tongue.

"Anytime mate," Louis smiles and goes to stand and Harry thinks he just has to do this now.

"Hey," he asks too quickly, grabbing at Louis' pant leg. Louis doesn't motion to sit, but he does give Harry his attention. "Do you… Do you remember anything from the other night?"

Louis cocks his head in confusion. "What night?"

Harry tenses. "When you came back drunk off your ass…" He tries to laugh at the end but is pretty sure it sounds fake.

"Oh," Louis says, and Harry is just about terrified now. "Yeah, I don't remember much, but sorry for whatever I did." 

"You… You don't remember anything?" Harrys asks, looking up at Louis' face. He won't admit it's perfect yet.

Louis shakes his head but still laughs. "I know I managed to come home, but it seems whatever I did knocked you around, so yeah. Sorry." Harry wants to tell him that no, he should never be sorry, and he wants to so badly stand and take over Louis' space and just _take_. Instead he clears his throat awkwardly and changes the subject.

"You never did tell me how you got that bruise." Once he realises he's still holding Louis' pant leg he stands, clumsily, and quickly sits on the edge of his bed, fingers folded together. Louis carefully takes a seat on his own bed and licks his lips. Harry ignores his want.

"A bully," Louis says and Harry laughs.

"We're a little too old to have bullies," he says but stops laughing when Louis looks at him with a hurt expression. 

"Okay, well, then, I challenged the wrong guy to a fight," Louis says defensively. Harry wants to go over and touch.

"Nah, I'm pretty sure you kicked his ass, right?" Harry tries to sound as cheerful as he can, but it does little to lighten Louis.

Still, he forces a smile. "He gave up, if that still counts." And Harry thinks it does.

"So why did you fight the guy anyway? Seems like something you wouldn't do," Harry says and then realises he knows Louis enough to know why and why not he'd do something. It makes him feel only slightly chuffed.

Louis sighs. "It was over something really childish." Harry just keeps quiet, silently nudging Louis along. "I guess I had a few too many."

Harry snorts. "Well you were quite the sight when you came back."

To this, Louis actually does crack a smile.

Louis pretty much changes the subject after that, thinking of literally anything else to talk about. He starts off about some crap telly show Harry's sure he's never watched. They stay like that for a while, just talking about whatever comes to mind until Harry falls asleep watching Louis enthusiastically explain how solar flares work.

It stays like that for the next few weeks, just Louis and Harry simply living together. Louis still snores, Harry still gets annoyed by it, but at least he's never found laundry in strange places again. Harry asks Louis for help on his school work, partially because he actually needs the help, and also because Harry really just loves watching Louis talk. It's one night when Louis is explaining something Harry perfectly understands that he realises he might actually be falling for the stupid boy with the stupid Yorkshire accent.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He laments this to Liam. Liam doesn't seem that compassionate about it.

"So you went from hating his guts to wanting to fuck his guts?" Liam says and does a terrible job of hiding his amusement.

"I'm glad my pain amuses you," Harry replies and groans.

"Just wait," Liam says, "Go to a bar and pick up some hot chick. That'll calm down your gayness." Harry punches his arm but figures he's right anyway.

That night Liam and him go to a bar and Harry gets some ribs and good beer. He and Liam are chatting up a storm before Harry remembers why he came here, and only remembers because Liam sharply taps his shoulder and motions for Harry to turn around. Sure enough behind him is a woman with quite spectacular tits and nice, fat lips. She's in a dress that hugs her just well enough that it's still hot, and her hair looks like if Harry ran his fingers through it it'd feel like silk. It's enough for him to make a move.

"Hey there," Harry says in the sultriest of tones he can come up with. It works marvels, and the woman is already leaning too close. 

The two end up making out in the family restroom of the bar. Her hair is easy to grab and her ass is round enough to appreciate and Harry has his way with her. The sounds of their wet kissing fill the silence otherwise occupied by hand dryers and Harry's pretty sure he's getting hard. Everything is stonking great until he pulls away from a kiss and really looks at the woman again. She's going down on her knees to unbuckle Harry's belt and the way she's smiling should make his cock spring to life but it does little to even excite himself expressively. He watches her get close enough to be able to unbutton his jeans, but he stops her. He tries his best to casually smile and tell her some bullshit reason, like he has an exam or some shit (even though it's Friday) but regardless the woman looks pissed. She huffs as she leaves, letting the bathroom door slam behind her and leaving Harry standing, belt undone and all he can hear now is someone shouting in the other bathroom.

His feet feel heavy walking back into the dorm room. Louis is curled up in his bed and the lights are all out. Harry isn't sure what time it is, but he falls onto his bed all the same. He doesn't even feel like kicking his shoes off, and his undone belt is still in his hand. Liam had asked what the hell when he saw the woman leave, and Harry really didn't have a good explanation. Lost the urge, he said to him, and that was enough to pacify Liam. Harry stayed a little while longer just to muse his friend, but was secretly thankful when they finally left. 

And now Harry finds himself here.

"Well hello," a muffled voice says and Harry knows it's Louis. He doesn't want to talk. When the silence reaches at least two minutes Harry can hear Louis sit up. "I know you're not asleep." Harry ignores how creepy it is he can tell that. "Your shoes are still on."

Knowing Louis is not going to give up Harry turns his head to look. Louis is sitting there, his hair somewhat a mess and not wearing a shirt. Harry feels his cock already responding. "I'm tired," he says and Louis laughs.

"Is that your excuse for leaving your shoes on?"

"Yes," Harry blurts and is sticking with it.

Louis says something along the lines of "you should still probably take them off" but Harry's now facing the other way and blatantly ignoring him. He's sure if he does this long enough he'll either fall asleep and Louis will give up, and he's content with either at the moment. 

It ends up being the former.

The next day Louis says he's going out for something, but Harry barely catches it. He's still blinking awake, and only really registers that Louis has left when the door shuts behind him. Harry takes his time getting up, and decides he's not going to do shit today. He sends Liam a quick text telling him just that, and even when Liam responds all angry and claiming to have been "hurt" Harry just sends him the emoji with the tongue sticking out. His phone vibrates three times immediately after, but Harry ignores it for a shower.

The day is boring, and when Harry looks at the clock it's nine at night and Louis isn't back yet. He pretends not to be bothered by it and goes instead to remembering that one night. The night he really got to touch Louis, how he took it for granted, and how he would give anything to do it again. Knowing it it won't, Harry goes to touch himself instead. He's laying on his bed, and when his hand reaches his already half hard cock his back instinctively arches. He's barely palming it through his boxers and is already so aroused. Dammit, he thinks, when did he get this low?

Ignoring is own self deprecating thoughts Harry instead thinks of Louis. Wonderful Louis. He thinks about that little body underneath him, writing in pleasure. How Harry would make him feel good, how he'd kiss that mouth until it begged him to never leave. How maybe Louis would be on his hands and knees, ass sticking up perfectly for Harry to fit right into. How he'd thrust in, Louis taking it all, and he'd just ruthlessly pump in and out. He'd hold Larry tight to him, pump Louis' cock and the more Louis would move underneath him the hotter Harry would get. Louis would come first, all over his stomach and Harry's hand, but Harry wouldn't stop. No, he'd keep going, let Louis get hard again, and then would he come inside him? He thinks he might, and imagines how Louis would take it, knowing Harry was filling him up.

Harry's pumps are getting more uncoordinated and his breaths are getting faster. He can't help but mumble Louis' name under his breath, imagining him desperately saying Harry's. The begging, the pushing back at Harry's touch, the way Louis would kiss Harry roughly through it all is what makes Harry come. He tries his best to be quiet about it, he tries not to make a mess, but both fail. He's left with his hand almost exclusively covered in come, and he's still breathing hard. He curses under his breath as he gets up, and doesn't even notice the shadow filling in the space between the door and the floor.


End file.
